





-.^e^v 



0< 









vV. 



■s^ 



4 o 















' . . « 















^ ^'^ *> -^ ^^ > 

iP -?*. * P^^ ^4 q. 



>. 



c^^V 
























5^- 



0^ 



o V 






.^^ 



■0^ 
4 o 



. ^;> 



'^t. 









^..^'''^a 









,0' 



.<3^ 






^^>' 






<.<=>'j^„ 



■^^ '*>:^* 



"-0 









%■ 



a ^^" 










.>l^ 



.,v^. 



-iy^" 












-^j- A 






* 0^^ 



c 



vV< 



r?>^ * O « ' ^^ 



\> 












/ "^ V. ..... 

o > 



Kef' 









-IV ^ 












,0^ . 















..v^ 



^V 



V*'^-' f° 






k\'- 









:?. 






^ 






.0 V 









c" 















7^r'. 



^V-^. ' '^/i^i^^ivN^ 



^^9^ 



MR. BBOf rs FIDS. 



Uje^rJ^^ 



^ 



MR. BROWN'S PIGS, 



ETC 



EDITED BY 

GEO. MEGEATH 



<t- y,', 



/ 



NEW YORK: ^ 

PUBLISHED BY WM. H. TRAFTON & CO., 

AND ALSO FOR SALE BY 

SIN (^ LAI K TOUSEY, 121 NASSAU STREET. 
18 6 2. 



CONTENTS. 

MR. BROWN'S PIGS By Smith Smithers, Esq. 

CLARA By Ramdox Brown, Esq. 

A LECTURE ON UGLINESS By Quentin Rinklk, Esq. 



ADVERTISEMENT BY THE EDITOR. 



I have in my possession several papers, written by mem- 
bers of the Sociable Club, of which the following may serve 
as specimens. The first article in this little pamphlet, 
appeared originally in the " Knickerbocker Magazine " for 
October 1853. For want of a better excuse for its republi- 
cation now, I might offer (what would suffice for "the 
Trade" at least) the wonderful increase in the Pork crop the 
present season, when so much of other crops fails to come to 
market. The verses are printed as being the shortest of all 
the attempts at poetry-writing in the collection, and as 
appealing to any pathetic interest the reader may attach to 
the unfortunate Mr. Brown. The lecture I publish, as Mr. 
Rinkle delivered it, " by request." We all remember listen- 
ing to a very fine discourse indeed, delivered, and, in fact, 
re-delivered by Mr. Ike. Marvel, some years since, on 
" Beauty and its Uses." The members of the Club were so 
much struck wuth Mr. Marvel's views of what may be called 
the positive of the subject, that they requested Mr. Rinkle 
to express his sentiments on the Negative thereof, which lie 
accordingly did, every member of the Club being present, 
and the apartments being " graced by the presence of the 
ladies." 

New York, August, 1862. Q, M. 



ME. BROWI^'S PIGS. 



One evening, not a great while since, I dropped 
in at tlie Sociable Club, of which, I flatter myself, I 
am not altogether an undistinguished member. Indeed 
I believe every one of us has a good opinion of him- 
self, founded on a consciousness of some merit which 
no other member gainsays or denies. Certainly, for 
a club-man to decry his fellow would be a species of 
self-stultification, like abusing one's wife to one's neigh- 
bor. Whether we recognize this principle, or whether 
it be that we are all of a happy, generous disposition, 
there is no doubt that, almost without exception, 
we are on the best of terms with each other and 
with ourselves. 

But whatever vanity there may be among us 
individually, in our collective capacity, and as the 
world sees us, we make no great pretensions. We 
have not yet reached the full-blown dignity of house- 
keeping, and are content with a pair of rooms and 
an ante-chamber, conveniently located over Briggs, 
the cigar and liquor merchant, with whom we store 



our wines, and whose clerk serves us as a butler, 
without pay ; while above us is Madame Frisbie's 
fashionable millinery establishment, which affords us 
an opportunity of meeting a good many fine ladies 
on the stairs, and some of the prettiest little coiffeuses 
in the world. 

As for that 'society,' as it is called, which so 
many men and women, boys and girls, fools and, 
indeed, wits, 'go into,' we do not, as a general 
thing, see much of it except at a respectful distance. 
If I were to assert that we object to several of its 
requirements ; that we dislike standing an hour at 
a time, with no means of escape, hopelessly endeavor- 
ing to entertain some heavy lady to whom we have 
nothing to say ; that young Masters Polky and 
Swell, tearing round the room, each with an arm- 
ful of young woman, distribute hotness as they pass 
beside treading on one's toes ; and that we are 
decidedly unwilling to stand in halls or on landings, 
exposed to draughts, elbowings, and tray-corners — I 
might, perhaps, expose our Club to unmerited sus- 
picion, and be asked if the grapes were sour ; so I 
shall only say that, while a great many persons 
find pleasure in the above amusements, we are moder- 
ately contented in our second-story club ; and while 
Masters Polky and Swell are pulling on those agon- 



izing boots of theirs, or getting up those immense 
cravat-ties, which always remind me of the old- 
fashioned telegraph, in full play, that used to swing 
above the Exchange cupola, we, in quiet clothes, are 
passing the evening without any sort of martyrdom 
whatever. 

Tliere is an air of sociability about the rooms of 
our Club that authorizes its title at once. John, 
Black John, our Purveyor, Under Secretary, Com- 
missary-General, and Mercury-at-large, who weighs 
fourteen stone and treads like Camilla, opens the 
door, and welcomes you with an expansive smile 
beaming over the whole of his face, that I can only 
liken to a hemisphere in sun-shine. Tliere is the 
cheerfuUest of lires in the grate in the winter-season, 
the most fragrant lilacs bloom there in spring, and 
the greenest asparagus-tops in mid-summer. Upon 
the walls are one or two pictures, which, if not very 
gratifying as specimens of art, are yet calculated to 
inspire sociability and good humor. Over one mantel 
is an engraving of the Literary Tea Party ; while 
the other is decorated with a print after Leslie's 
picture of Uncle Toby and the Widow ; and at the 
late sale of the Art-Union property — which, as so- 
ciable fellows, we regretted as much as anybody — 
we purchased a tine, 'large fruit-piece, delineating half 



8 

a water-melon, a cantelope, several peaches, and a 
knife and silver salver, wliich, when fruit is not in 
season, is very refreshing. 

As for our other furniture, it is decidedly more 
useful than ornamental, more comfortable than costly. 
Jo. Mallet, the celebrated auctioneer, who is a mem- 
ber of our Club, and who, after knocking down lots 
of the most elegant, fashionable, and costly furniture 
in this metropolis, will yet come into the Club of an 
evening and tell his story or enjoy a joke without 
any airs or the least pretension — Jo. Mallet, even, 
would fail in attempting to make the contents of our 
rooms fetch any handsome sum of money. Far distant 
be the day when he shall be called on for such a 
purpose! May it never be his duty to stand up on 
the mahogany he has sat down to so often ! 

And here let me fervently hope the kind reader 
will not accuse us of parsimony for the modest man- 
ner of our club-keeping. Above all, let me deprecate 
the degrading imputation of poverty — that 'lower 
deep ' of infamy in this golden age. No, no ; we 
may have our faults, but not quite that. If we 
chose to go in the very face and eyes of the funda- 
mental principle of our clubbed existence, we might, 
with a little financiering, manage to be splendid. 
But, ah ! we have heard of the dismal sociability of 



9 

many elegantly-appointed mansions in our Belgravia. 
We know the Gorgon influence of su]3erb upholstery. 
We listened, at the Club the other evening, to the 
story of the country-gentleman at one of the new 
hotels, who sat on his trunk all night, afraid of doing 
something not quite genteel in the presence of so 
much good furniture. By all odds, we prefer chintz 
and sociability to brocatelle and the fear of using it. 
Give us plain Brussels for our floors, and leathern- 
cushioned arm-chairs for our sedent refreshment, and 
let us put our feet on the sofa and smoke, and be 
sociable. 

Among the members of the Club, Rinkle is, per- 
haps, the greatest authority in matters of literature 
and taste. Without being engaged in any one pur- 
suit, a moderate income enables him to gratify his 
passion for lounging in libraries and book-stores, and 
poring over the magazines, and occasionally to buy 
a new publication. He has been told that he ought 
to write for the periodicals, but he professes too much 
regard for the fraternity of authors to interfere with 
their perquisites. 'No, no,' he says: 'if publishers 
want articles, let them pay for them, and let them 
go to the men that want the money. I take the 
bread out of no man's mouth.' On matters of every 
day interest, however, he does not hesitate to put 



10 

ven to paper. Tliose are his initials, ^ Q. E,.,' which 
YOii occasionally see in the newspapers underneath 
a, hrief l)ut cogent argument in favor of sweeping the 
streets by steam-power at midnight ; or attached to 
a- statement of tlie fact, tliat tlie thermometer stood 
at ninety degrees Fahrenheit at Montreal, last Wed- 
nesday, and at seventy-five degrees in Wall-street 
at the same time, which accounted for the cold south- 
erly gale yesterday morning. 

He was entered in the club-register Avhen proposed 
as Mr. Q. Einkle, and somebody immediately dul)bed 
liim Queer ; but his card was found afterward on 
one of the tables, from which we learned that he 
liad been cliristened Quentin. 

Anotlier prominent member is Mr. Fred Daw, 
Avho, being something of a hon vivant, and considered 
a good judge of wines, may be set down as the 
Club's gastronomic oracle. Fred is a rising young 
lawyer, and has been ;i rising young lawyer any 
time these fifteen years. Considering the slowness 
with which legal gentlemen culminate, and Fred's 
fondness for good cheer, I think it may be assumed 
that by the time Mr. Daw falls into the grave, he 
will be pronounced, in a professional way, to have 
just risen. 

I take extreme pleasure in further introducing 



11 

to the reader Mr. Wiclierly Cribbs, of Wall-street. 
Of the exact nature of Mr. Cribbs' business I am 
not aware. 1 was unable to discover his name in 
the Directory when I once wished too see him on 
the affairs of the Club, but after some search found 
him fat and comfortable as ever, in an under-ground 
apartment, counting over an immense number of faded 
bank-bills, and, as it appeared to me, with his eyes 
shut. He is our reference on financial matters, and 
has furnished Rinkle with many valuable statistics. 
He can always tell us how many shares the great 
Mr. Flam is long or short in the ruling fancy ; and 
although I believe he is not a member of the Board, 
he seldom fails to give us the full particulars of any 
exciting scene on the Stock Exchange. If he has 
a weakness, it is to be considered a sporting charac- 
ter ; but I firmly believe him innocent of any profi- 
ciency that would \varrant the title, and am inclined 
to think he gets his intelligence at second-hand. In 
spite of this failing, Mr. Cribbs is held in high esti- 
mation at our rooms ; and it is my intention, when 
the copy-right treaty is fairly under way, to consult 
him on the subject of investments. 

But the gentleman to whom the reader and my- 
self may at present be said to be under the deepest 
obligation, inasmuch as he has been the cause — logic- 



12 

ally remote, and legally innocent, to be sure — of the 
lines I am now writing, is Mr. Rawdon Brown ; and 
if I have not looked upon Mr. Brown hitherto with 
that glow of friendship with which I regard some 
other members, it is not that I have any personal 
feelings of hostility toward him. Heaven forbid! 
I trust I am at peace with all the world. Nor is it 
because I begrudge him the gold spoon with which 
he was born ; dear me ! why should I care whether 
my spoon be gold or pewter, so long as I have my 
egg, and the appetite to relish it'^ But the cause 
of any coolness that Brown may have observed in 
me is an unpleasant suspicion I have had of the out- 
and-out genuineness of his sociable sentiments, judged 
by the Club-standard of orthodoxy. 

As a proof of my freedom from that sen^a animm 
— envy — I do frankly admit that Brown is the young- 
est and l)est dressed man among us, and that he has 
given some capital dinners at the Club. But still I 
must be allowed to say I have observed with pain 
his evident penchant for that domestic conglomerate 
called fashionable society, and his ill-concealed rever- 
ence for the titles and unmeaning gew-gaws of 
foreign aristocracies. I have met him twice in the 
street of an evening wearing a high and very white 
cravat; and I confess that, on those occasions, the 



general stiiiness, and reserve, and unsociability of 
his air, inspired me with disgust. For several months 
past, Brown has not been seen at the Club. At first 
his absence was noticed, for we liked his dinners and 
smiling face. But learning that he was out of town 
on some private business, we consoled ourselves after 
the fashion of most sociable men, and turned to other 
dinners and other faces, and in the fulness and per- 
fection of our sociability, got on so well without 
him, that I had not heard his name mentioned for 
weeks until the evening to which I have referred, 
when, as my wont is, I dropped in at the Club. 

On this occasion, I was gratified to find Rinkle, 
Fred Daw, and Mr. Cribbs in the rooms. It was 
early, and no one was present — pardon me, Black 
John, thou wast there with thy great shining face; 
but thon art a necessity to our comfort, John, and 
like, many of our comforts, we shall often forget thee 
untii thou art gone. 

John took my umbrella and over-coat as I ap- 
proached the fire — it was a rawish night — and his 
glowing countenance, which is as good as another 
fire in a room on a cheerless day, disappeared into 
his private ante-chamber on the landing, I found 
Rinkle seated at the table, dallying with the maga- 
zines; Cribbs was comfortably ensconced in an arm- 



14 

chair, sleepily holding a letter in his hand; and Fred 
reclining on a sofa, was devoting the evening rem- 
nant of his legal energies to making rings with 
tobacco smoke. 

'A letter from Brown,' said Cribbs, as I entered. 
' What Brown ? ' I suddenly asked : and I now 
acknowledge the unsociable treachery of my memory. 
'You are fined,' said Rinkle, in a low, solemn 
voice, looking at me over his spectacles, ' for sociable 
heterodoxy and schism. The Brown referred to is 
a member of a Club to which one Smithers also 
belongs.' (That is my own name, dear reader, and 
you will admire the delicacy with which I have 
refrained from introducing myself.) I bowed my 
acquiescence in liis decision, and desired to know 
the nature of the line. 

'- That shall be decided presently. Meanwhile we 
are endeavoring to account for Brown's conduct.' 

A faint surmise that Brown had suddenly mar- 
ried into fashionable life, and liad sent in his resig- 
nation, arose in my mind as 1 inquired into the 
gra/oamen criminis. 

'Pigs,' replied Fred. 

'Pigs?' 

'Ah! pigs, indeed,' said Cribbs, mournfully, 

' It seems,' said Rinkle, with an explanatory ges- 



15 

turo, 'that our friend Brown, tlian wlioni a better 
fellow does n't breathe, has, for some unexplained 
cause, been withdrawinij' himself from the amenities 
of civilized life, and amusing his leisure with agri- 
cultural, or, to speak more correctly, zoological 
pursuits. Though they have proved disastrous, I 
am the last man, and T hope, gentlemen, you are 
the last men ' 

'Hear I' cried Fred. 

' Of course,' said Cribbs. 

And T nodded approval — 

' To condemn failure M-hen the motive has been 
worthy, and the effort has corresponded thereto. I 
only wish," he continued, speaking slowly, -and 
h)oking at Fred, as though there wei-e an impor.ant 
criminal trial going on, in which Kinkle was judge. 
Brown prisoner at the bar, and F. Daw, Esq. counsel 
for the accused. "I only wish I could think of a 
motive, or that he had stated one in his letter." 

* Hams,' suggested the learned counsel. 

The Judge shook his head. 

'Dividends,' Cribbs mildly volunteered. 

Rinkle still shoook his head: 'Ko, gentlemen, 
the objects you mention, are worthy of an effort, 
but either of them could be attained without the 
sacrifices our friend has imposed upon himself. I 



16 

must look for some liii2;her motive. It may be there 
is some trait in the character of the pig, as yet un- 
observed by ourselves, but revealed to Brovt^n, cal- 
culated, if developed, to enlist our intellectual 
sympathies. I remember reading somewhere that 
Luther occasionally passed an hour in company with 
liis swine, and found the change agreeable after 
severe polemics. "Whether Brown would have chosen 
any such relief from the society of books, I cannot 
venture to decide. Certainly I can hardly think 
he would select it after the enjoyment of such social 
privileges as this metropolis affords.' 

'I tell you what it is,' said Cribbs, who suddenly 
seemed to remember some interesting fact, ' there's 
good pluck in a pig.' 

' Of course there is,' said Fred ; ' the negroes are 
very fond of it, and esteem it a rare delicacy, al- 
though ' 

' Pshaw ! I don't mean that, but grit — courage. 
The celebrated fighting-pig, Pape, whipped one dog 
after another with perfect ease ; I saw liim do it.' 

' An exception to the general rule,' remarked 
Rinkle. 'Pigs are generally faint-hearted, inasmuch 
as tliey are generally hungry. Man may be valor- 
ous after dinner, but swine recognize no such period 
of existence. With them, life is one continued ''ante- 
prandium.' 



17 

'But, my dear Rinkle,' I here ventured to ask, 
' why look for some improbable and recondite motive 
for Brown's conduct, which I understand to consist 
merely in rearing a certain number of swine? I 
certainly cannot see why honest efforts to bring good 
pork to market do not constitute as laudable an 
occupation as any. Although Burton pronounces 
pork to be melancholy food, it certainly has operated 
very materially to give anything but a gloomy ex- 
pression to the face of our whole western country. 
As forming one of our chief staples, pigs may be 
said to have built many of our cities, enlarged our 
canals, extended our rail-roads, and turned our prai- 
ries into cornflelds.' 

' All true,' said Rinkle, ' but material, very ma- 
terial.' 

' And if,' I continued, ' the common article of 
merchandise — pork of no rare breed, or choice feed- 
ing — forms such an universal dish, and deserves 
respect from its popularity, how much more import- 
ance does it assume when, by judicious cross-breeding 
and dainty nurture, the flesh becomes etherealized, 
as I may say, and even the mature hog is as great 
a delicacy as the 'young and tender suckling under 
a year old,' over which Charles Lamb went into 
such raptures.' 



18 

' I remember,' said Riiikle : ' a dainty description 
is that, and worthy of the subject. One paragraph 
I shall never forget : 

' ' Therk is no flavor 'comparable, I will contend, to that of the 
crisp, tawny, well-watched, not over-roasted crackling, as it is well called : 
the very teeth are invited to their share of the pleasures of this ban- 
quet, in overcoming the coy, brittle, resistance, with the adhesive olea- 
ginous — Oh! call it not fat! but an indefinable sweetness growing 
up to it ; the tender blossoming of fat ; fat cropped in the bud, taken 
in the shoot, in the first innocence ; the cream and quintessence of the 
child-pig's yet pure food ; the lean — no lean, but a kind of animal man- 
na, or, rather fat and lean, (if it must be so,) so blended and running 
into each other that both together make but one ambrosian result, a 
common substance.' 

' Yes, Rinkle,' I observed, ' you have there quoted 
a passage that might almost persaude a man to em- 
bark in the business of pig-breeding, and endeavor 
after perennial litters. But Lamb was guilty of slan- 
dering the adult animal, and overlooking his capaci- 
ties for carnal improvement. A well-born shote, 
judiciously developed by green vegetables and grain, 
and matured upon chesnuts, lorms no mean dish ; 
and if you will turn to the London Quarterly for 
January, 1853, which is on the table near you, you 
will find a few lines I have marked in an article on 
the Cloister Life of Charles V., which gives you an 
idea of pork as it should be, and which might, I 
think, make an epicure regret that he did not live 
in Spain in the sixteenth century.' 



19 

Riukle found the article and read as follows : 

' Yet if Spaniards have written their annals true, these said Belgians 
and Hollanders looked plump and fair, and fed as voraciously as if they 
had been Jews, upon the unctuous hams and griskins of Montanches. 
Estremadura is indeed a porcine pays de Cocagne ; an Elysium of the 
pig ; a land overflowing with savory snakes for his summer improvement, 
and with sweet acorns for his autumnal perfectionment ; whence results 
a flesh fitter for demi-gods than Dutchmen, and a fat tinted like melted 
topazes — a morsel for cardinals and wise men of the West. 

Fred Daw was on his feet in an instant. He had 
writhed with gusto while Rinkle repeated the roast 
pig paragraph, but he could now contain himself 
no longer. He flung his cigar in the fire, and re- 
quested that that bit of writing might be served 
over again; after which he ordered John to go im- 
mediately down stairs and bring up a bottle of that 
celebrated Topaz sherry, and glasses for four. 

It was after we had drunk to Brown, to Spanish 
pigs, and to the reviewer unknown, that Rinkle in- 
formed me that, however pertinent I might have 
considered my observations, they had no relevancy 
whatever to the case in hand ; that Brown's pigs 
had not been of the same breed, by any means, as 
those in the Review ; that he had not attempted 
their perfectionment on snakes and acorns ; that they 
had been objects rather of pity than admiration ; 
that, for himself, he must look for some nobler mo- 
tive than had yet been suggested to account for the 
young man's conduct ; and that for the unpleasant 



20 

facts of the case he would refer me to Cribbs, who 
who had the letter : and thereupon our philosophic 
member made a dead set at all the quarterlies on 
the table in search, of a theory. 

While he was thus employed, and while Daw on 
the sofa was in a smiling reverie, in which floated 
I dare say, visions of unctuous hams and griskins, 
and flesh tinted like melted topazes, Mr. Wycherly 
Cribbs imparted to me the leading particulars con- 
nected with the subject before us. 

Rawdon Brown, it seems, had, for some reason 
only known to himself, bought, in the early summer, 
five hundred of those articles of merchandize known 
to dealers under the name of Western Store Pigs. 
He had passed several hours at the Bull's Head 
one rainy day, in the agreeable company of a most 
polite and well-informed gentlemen, from whom he 
made the purchase, and who, through all the in- 
clemency of the weather, and all the repulsive filth 
of the yards, had kindly assisted him in selecting, 
counting, and weighing the drove. It was at this 
gentleman's suggestion that he choose the leanest 
animals, as being the best travellers, and aftbrding 
the fairest field for developement and improvement. 
It was in deference to his advice that he stabled 
his fine horse at the Bull's Head over-night, and 
that he took rooms at the Bull's Head Tavern on 



21 

the same evening, preparatory to the start for the 
country 'in the cool' of the next day. It was this 
polite gentleman who ' scared up,' to use his own 
language, half a dozen good ' drover-boys,' and in- 
troduced them to Mr. Brown as ' uncommon care- 
ful lads with a drove ; " it was this gentleman who 
received Mr, Rawdon Brown's check for nineteen 
hundred and ninety-nine and ninety one-hundreths' 
dollars, being the amount of the bill rendered for 
five hundred Store Pigs, weighing, as per returns, 
twenty-eight thousand five hundred and seventy 
pounds, and sold at seven cents per pound ; and, 
furthermore, it was this gentleman whom, notwith- 
standing all these attentions, Mr. Brown subse- 
quently characterized as a scamp. 

Among the delights which Mr. Howard Payne had 
in his mind's eye when he wrote that renowned song, 
'Home, Sweet Home,' I think the bed, the familiar bed, 
with its clean, sweet sheets, must have been uppermost. 
We approach it in our yawning, demi-apparelled state, 
with a fond confidence, resulting from a confirmed 
experience of its perfect adaptedness to our particular 
comfort; we sit upon it with anticipatory luxury; a 
thrill of pleasure rewards us for the effort of ' turning 
in' as our toe-tips touch the linen, and we draw down 
the coverlid at length, and hide ourselves from the 



22 

world, with the soul-comforting assurance of whole- 
some rest, and freedom from companionship, human 
or entomic. Ah ! in country-houses, in far-off cities, 
even in our best friend's hospitable mansion, how do 
we remember that bed, those immaculate sheets ! but 
at a tavern — Jupiter Hospitalis ! do we not some- 
times rather forego the relinquishment of those 
garments, the livery of our degenerate nature, 
than 

Well, Mr. Brown passed the night, after his 
purchases, stretched upon three chairs, and thought 
of Procrustes and pigs, and slept but little. 

Behold him on the following morning, performing 
the depressing feat of driving a fast horse at a slow 
walk, and following that squealing, straggling army 
of young swine; their six highly recommended but 
suspicious-looking young officers hallooing, running, 
dodging, returning, chasing deserters into the ranks, 
and swearing fearfully. Behold him halting in the 
road as he approaches some open field or turnpike- 
crossing ; and as he stands up in his vehicle, see with 
what generalship he witnesses the grand deploy of his 
troops. Hear him shout till he is hoarse, as the left 
wing starts incontinently down the wrong road; the 
right, entering a breach in the wall, victoriously 
attacks an unresisting column of beardless corn ; 
while the main body, averse to action as to flight, 



23 

inglorioiisly conceals itself in a road-side ditcli, and 
sits down to enjoy the mud. See him, with his raw 
infantry re-marshalled and on their way again, calling 
a halt, which the officers alone obey ; and, driving 
into the midst of his forces, endeavor to perform the 
impossible task of counting them. Watch him 
throughout that day, and the next, and still a third ; 
and after encountering the fatigue, the perplexities, 
the annoyances of the march ; the sun, the mud, or 
the dust ; the astonished stare of the few acquaint- 
ances, and the inquisitive leer of the many strangers 
he met ; the gibes of rustics, who asked if tliem 
critters took the prize at the World's Fair; the 
constant anxiety lest provisions or shelter should fail 
on the route ; and the nightly fear that his barn- 
lodged officers would desert in disgust, and leave him 
at the head of his regiment alone : after all this, see 
him arrive at his country home, haggard, unshaven, 
and travel-stained — and unless you consider him a 
fool, or infatuated, you must agree with Rinkle that 
he was influenced by some higher motive than 
superior pork or profit. 

Upon the evening of his arrival, Brown succeeded 
in counting his forces. He found, like Napoleon at 
Moscow, that his ranks had been thinned on the 
march. Fourteen pigs were missing. 

Early the next day, he awoke. Not the sun- beams 



24 

glinting through the window-panes, not the dewy call 
of incense-breathing morn, nor yet the cock's shrill 
clarion, roused him from his slumbers ; but an un- 
earthly noise— a combination of unearthly noises, 
singly, hideous and harrowing ; together — indeed, I 
will not repeat the strong, sub-terrene adjective he 
used in his letter to describe them. The pangs of 
purgatory seemed going on outside his window. 
Four hundred and seventy hollow pigs, fierce with 
the gnawings of hunger, were shrieking for their 
breakfast. 

Four hundred and seventy. Sixteen had yielded 
up their poor lives during the night. What they 
had sufi^ered, no one can tell. "Whether fatigue, 
whether fever and burning thirst, whether a surfeit 
on unaccustomed diet; or whether the maladie du 
pays — a hopeless yearning for Ohio, and a broken 
heart — had ended their miseries, who shall say? 
There they were, pain and pleasure over, stiff, cold, 
and dead. 

And Brown, reverent as a Brahmin, ordered them 
to be buried decently. And he was glad when the 
four hundred and seventy were fed, and their how- 
lings had subsided into grunts; and resting upon a 
log, while they strayed in the orchard around him, 
he sat wondering if any more would die, when he 
heard a strange cough. 




COUGHING TIME.- (Page 25.) 



25 

He looked up, supposing it to proceed from one of 
his men, who stood near him ; but the man seemed 
strong and well, and his broad chest heaved only 
with a healthy breathing. Still the cough continued. 
It came from beyond the man. Evidently a pig was 
in distress ; too large a lump of moist meal had 
probably been gulped down, or a stray knife from 
the kitchen offal. 

Humanity, no less than self-interest, was hurrying 
our friend to find the sufferer, when he thought he 
heard a remarkable echo. The cough seemed repeated 
from some point behind him. Perhaps it was not an 
echo, but another cough. He was as much bewildered 
as that notable donkey who found himself between 
two thistles, and stood wavering. Just then a third 
cough came conveniently to his aid ; and then a 
fourth broke out, and then two or three together ; 
and suddenly, a husky chorus came from a corner 
of the orchard; and then, coughing-time having come, 
as it would seem, pretty much all the company went 
at it, and wheezed and rasped so vigorously, that the 
passing traveller might have supposed himself in the 
vicinity of a flourishing saw-mill. 

Brown stood aghast. The realization of Virgil's 
description was before him : 

' et quatit aegros 



Tussis anhela sues, ac faucibus angit obesis.' 



26 

His men were as much perplexed as himself. They 
had never seen the like before, and could only sug- 
gest sulphur as a sovereign remedy for all the ills 
that kind of flesh is heir to. 

Over the further sufferings of these creatures let 
us draw a veil. For months, their infatuated owner 
persevered in his design, whatever that design was. 
If, indeed, it savored at all of speculation, it was a 
mournful failure, and a warning to the uninitiated. 
To be sure, the creatures dropped off slowly, and 
kept up a good appetite to the last ; but, though 
they consumed untold bushels, corn seemed only to 
have the same effect upon them as upon mill-stones 
— to wear them out. Day after day, corpses were 
found in the orchard; and a post-mortem examination 
of the remnant that was left of the drove, in the 
autumn, proved that the knife had kindly anticipated 
the pleurisy. 

There was silence in tlie rooms of the Sociable 
Club for some moments after Cribbs had ceased. 
Fred Daw was in Estremadura. I could perceive by 
the moisture at the corners of his mouth, as he 
faintly smiled in his sleep, that there was a morsel 
of paradisiacal pork melting on his tongue. Rinkle 
sat in his chair, the Review to which he had last 
referred open on the table beside him, and himself as 



27 

motionless as any petrifaction. His eyes were shut, 
and a casual observer might have supposed that he 
too slept. But I have not watched that man through 
a long acquaintanceship to no purpose, and I very 
well knew, as I saw him with his hands clasped, and 
the tips of his forefingers meeting at the end of his 
nose, that he was in profound thought. 

For full live minutes did Cril)bs and I sit waiting 
for him to speak. At length, his eyes opened ; his 
fingers slowly left his nose, and pointed to the 
figure on the sofa. 

'Wake him,' said Rinkle. 

Any person who has had much experience of truly 
civilized life, knows the difliculty of rousing a gentle- 
man of luxurious habits and good appetite from his 
after-dinner slumbers, and need not be told that it 
was with extreme difficulty we could bring Mr. 
Daw's soul back from its sensual banquet to the 
feast of reason, with Rinkle as host. 

' Gen-tle-men,' said Kinkle, at length, with tliat 
distinct and empliatic utterance of each syllable, so 
calculated to impress the hearer with the import- 
ance of what is coming : ' Gen-tle-men ! the truly 
philosophic mind, in accounting for any phenomena, 
is not satisfied with a limited and conventional 
survey, but weighs the combined evidence of all ex- 
perience, observation, and learning. 



^8 

' Philosophy, gentlemen, calling science to its aid, 
looks back, not a year, nor a century, nor yet a 
thousand years, but through countless ages ; and 
forming its theories from facts, it gives to every 
creature the place assigned it in the mysteriously 
written, but still intelligible history of Creation. Be- 
fore the researches of science, (to which I bow,) pre- 
judice give way, error hides it head, and the cher- 
ished traditions of superstition are ridiculed or for- 
gotten. 

' And now, gentlemen, that we may form such a 
catholic and scientiiically-correct estimate of the 
whole animal creation as will enable us to look upon 
the pig with an enlightened and unprejudiced eye, 
let me read you an extract from the celebrated geo- 
logist, Mr, Sedgwick, as quoted in the Review I hold 
in my hand — the London QuarteHy for October, 
1851 : 

' ^The elevation of the Fauna of successive periods 
was not inade hy transmutation, hut hy creative ad- 
ditions ^ and it is hy watching these additions that 
we get some insight into Nature's true historical pro- 
gress. Judging hy our evidence, {and hy what else 
have we any right to judge f) there was a time when 
Cephalopoda were the highest types of animal life. 
They were then the Pkimates of this World, and, 
corresponding to their office and position, some of 



29 

tJhem were of noble structure, and gigantic size. But 
these creatures were degraded from their rank at the 
head of Nature, and Fishes next took the lead: and 
they did not rise up in Nature in some degenerate 
form, as if they were hut the transmuted progeny of 
the Cephalopoda, hut they started into life in the very 
highest ichthyic type eoer created. Following our 
history chronologically. Reptiles next took tlie lead ', 
and {with some almost evanescent exceptions) they 
flourished during the countless ages of the secondary 
period as the lords and despots of the world ^ and 
they had an organic perfection correspmiding to their 
exalted rank in Nature's kingdom y for their highest 
orders were not merely great in strength and stature, 
hut were anatomically raised far ahove any forms of 
the Reptile class now living in the world. This class 
was, however, in its turfi to lose its rank ^ what is 
more, it underwent {when considered collectively) a 
positive organic degradation hefore the e7id of the 
secondary period — and this took place countless ages 
hefore terrestrial mammals of any living type had 
heen called into heing. Mammals were added next, 
{near the commencement of the tertiary period^ and 
seem to have heen added suddenly. Some of the early 
extinct forms of this class, which loe now ktiow only 
hy ransacking the ancient catacombs of Nature, were 
powerful and gigantic, and %oe helieve they were, col- 



30 

lectively well-fitted fo7' the place they filled. But they 
in their turn., were to he degraded from their place 
at the head of Nature^ and she hecame what she now 
is, hy the addition of Man. By this last addition 
she is more exalted than she was hefore. Man stands 
hy himself the despotic lord of the liviviy world; not 
so great in organic strength as many of the despots 
that went hefore him in Nature's chronicle, hut raised 
far above them all hy a higher development of the 
hrain / hy a framework ' — etc. etc. etc. ' Such is the 
history of creation^ — Sedgwick : p. 216. 

' Yes, gen-tle-men, such is the history of creation ; 
not handed down to lis by vain tradition, but written 
before language had existence, and traced by royal 
hands in the solid rock. 

' Such are the sermons that science extorts from 
stones ! Man, the present primate and lord of the 
creation, has taken the throne successively occupied 
by the cepalopoda, fishes, reptiles, and mammals ; 
and, as Cuvier, I remember, holds, in his turn to 
yeild the sceptre to some yet uncreated class. There 
are a thousand curious questions that present them- 
selves upon the reception of these great truths. Per- 
haps the most serious and aifecting are : What kind 
of creatures shall succeed us in our reign? At about 
what period will they make their appearance ? Will 
they look upon their fallen predecessors with compas- 



31 

sion, and treat them with kindness ? Will they 
understand onr spoken language and read our books, 
or will our words be to them as brutish sounds, our 
alphabet but hieroglyphics? Will they be carnivorous; 
and if so, will the creatures they immediately succeed 
be pleasant to their taste ? 

' But without turning aside to pursue these and 
other interesting inquiries, let us apply the light that 
science thus lets in uj)on us to the subject of our 
recent investigation ; and what a halo does it shed 
upon the name of BROWN — martyr to compassion 
for a royal though degraded order ! How^ does it 
illuminate his motives ; how begild even his depleted 
purse ! We remember his admiration of high birth, 
his partiality for noble blood. Probably, gentlemen, 
very probably, among the creatures who reigned be- 
fore our lordships, the Pig ranked high ; perhaps 
he was the greatest mammal of them all ■ — the 
'mighty Paramount.' If size gave importance, as 
it undoubtedly did, how noble must he have been ! 
Even in these, his degenerate days, his capacity of 
growth is almost illimitable: conceive of his great- 
ness in the prime and pre-eminence of his power ! 
If blood was then a test among peers, how readily 
must the supremacy have been yielded to him ! 
Even in this, his era of serfdom, the stream that 



32 

courses through liis veins tints his flesh like jewels, 
and y-ives it an ambrosial tans: ! 

' Gentlemen ! while the rest of the world admire 
and appland the man who — laudably indeed — spends 
his time in protecting and pampering the strongest 
and handsomest individuals, descendants of a class 
or an order of whilom monarchs, be it for us to 
honor him who has nobly devoted himself to the 
most miserable of their progeny : I refer to Brown. 
I desire Smithers, as a payment of the fine I have 
this night imposed on him, to prepare (for the public 
eye) some account of our absent friend's self-denials 
in behalf of a degraded order. To this account he 
may add these brief remarks of my own ; and I 
take this opportunity of intimating that I may yet 
prepare a paper tracing the mercenary practice (as it 
now exists) of preserving swine's flesh for market, 
to the noble custom, so prevalent among the ancient 
races, of embalming their illustrious dead. 

'And now, gentlemen, one more duty. It is not 
ours, perhaps, to harbor and sustain, on so large a 
scale as Brown has done, the scions of an unfortunate 
race. It was not ours, in the least particular, to aid 
our friend in his benevolent projects. Let us, at any 
rate, show our sympathy with his efforts, and our 
respect for their object. I propose, gentlemen — to be 
drunk in silence — the memory of Brown's Pigs !' 



^/\-TiE;i 




CLAEA. 

BY 

R^AVDOISr BRO^WN, Esq. 

"If jou should see a picture of her, such 

As Raphael might have painted, — though the glow 

Seemed playing on her cheek — and though the lips 

Seemed parting, and did cheat you into waiting 

Until she spoke — that would not be her likeness. 

You would not half conceive her ; for she brings 

A calm, strange beauty with her presence 

Tliat is not of her person ; and you think, 

When gazing at her, that there is some cliarm 

Will keep her ever beautiful and young — 

The angels grow not old. When she approaches 

You do not think she walks — the distance lessens. 

Her laugh is like the echo of a strain 

Of music heard among the hills — her smile 

Comes to you like the sunlight when you wake ; 

Her large blue eyes look only tenderness 

And fullest confidence ; when she has spoken, 

Your ear would give her answer. Her sweet voice 

Lends a rare dignity to common things — 

The chafi'ering of the birds is melody." 



UGLINESS AND ITS USES. 



A^ LECTURE. 



BY QUENTIN RINKLE, Esq, 



LECTURE, 



Ladies and Gentlemen : 

In appearing before you to give expression to 
some crude remarks on the subject of Ugliness, I 
will, at the outset, disabuse your minds of any false 
impression they may have received by my choice of 
a topic. Let it not be supposed, that, in the general 
signification of the word, I consider Ugliness a thing 
to be over-admired and sought after. Were I, in- 
deed, an illiberal cynic, or a super-censorious preach- 
er, I might, to use the language of the pulpit, " for 
the good of your souls," enlarge upon the advantages 
of a crooked person or a homely face, while the 
youthful traveler pursues that ilowery but dangerous 
pathway, along which so many snares are laid for 
"the good-looking" and "the genteel." I might 
thus, perchance, persuade some of you to give a se- 
rious thought to that homely, may I not say, ugly, 
adage — "Handsome is that handsome does" — and dis- 
pel from your minds that fond but illusive notion, 
that " a thing of beauty is a joy forever." I might 



38 

induce the fairer portion of my audience, by the prac- 
tice of some of the lighter mortifications, to restrict 
the display of those charms which are as dangerous 
to themselves as to others ; and I might obtain the 
applause of the aged, the virtuous, the unfavored, as 
I am sure I should of the malicious, by sneering at 
those perfections of form, of feature and of mind, 
which have in all ages been the strength and the 
ornament of the sex, and which, I may say without 
flattery, have in no age or country found a higher 
development, or a worthier appreciation, than in our 
own day, and among my own countrywomen. [Ap- 
plause,] But no ! I should be untrue to myself as a 
man, as. an author, and as an American, were I in 
the least to detract from the benign influence of that 
subtle thing called Beauty. Whether beaming from 
the human face — that concentration of all charms, for 
the portraiture of which poets have dipped their pen- 
cils in clouds and rainbows, in sunbeams and moon- 
shine, and have even climbed beyond the sky to bor- 
row angelic pigments — or diffusing kself upon the 
marble or the canvas within rather than upon which 
the artist, with Promethean power, has seemed to 
work — whether glittering from a Coliseum, or steal- 
ing from behind a cloud — whether seated in cold and 
dignified majesty among the Alps, or gliding down 



39 

to us in gentleness with the sunlight — whether ex- 
hibited in what to the untutored savage would ap- 
pear a little parcel of curiously-pressed pages, but 
what to the cultivated mind is a treasure of the 
choicest intellectual gems, or displayed in that divine 
form, legible alike to the Barbarian and the Greek, a 
NOBLE DEED — I yield it my homage and confess its 
power. ^Neither can I believe that any of you are 
behind me in this devotion. Everywhere — in sky or 
sea — on the peak or in the cavern — on the " carpeted 
meadow" or the "carpeted floor" — you, I, all of us, 
acknowledge the claims of that ethereal but potent 
Essence — Beauty. [Applause.] 

And it is for this reason, among others, that I ap- 
pear before you to-night to address you on the topic 
I have chosen. Because the power and the rights of 
Beauty are everywdiere acknowledged, and hecause in 
the adulation it receives, and the attention that phi- 
losophic minds have ever paid, and are still paying, 
to its elucidation, I fear the claims of its opposite — • 
Ugliness — are in danger — I now stand forth, the 
humble, but the bold and honest champion of the 
latter Essence. 

I am aware of the unpopularity of my theme. I 
know that Ugliness in Nature or in Art — in form, 
feature or disposition — is generally disliked and 



40 

avoided. I do not forget that, in the general estima- 
tion of Christian lands, Ugliness is associated with 
that nameless Person, the Father of Evil and Lies, 
and that this association has given rise to a common, 
but none the less odious comparison. But, let me 
ask, is innocence to be condemned, because she is 
maligned ? Is Beauty to become a Juggernaut — or, 
rather, to borrow an idea from Plato, is she to be- 
come a lubricator to the wheels of a Juggernaut, 
that is to crush other and noble attributes in its pro- 
gress ? Heaven forbid ! Let us be generous, but let 
us at the same time be just. 

I shall proceed to speak of a few of the Uses of 
Ugliness. 

Ugliness is manifold. You might, perchance, ana- 
lyze its significations and declare that all their va- 
rieties can be comprehended in two classes — the out- 
ward, or apparent, and the inward, or essential ; and 
to the thoughtful mind, these two divisions may be 
all-sufficient. And yet Ugliness, like Beauty, is a 
thing so subtle, — it has such lights and shadows, — 
and is so far a negative and comparative, rather 
than a positive, characteristic, that I doubt whether 
I might not be met by opposition from every va- 
riety of intellect and taste, were I to insist dogmat- 
ically upon such a restricted classification. Let us 



41 

be content, at any rate, to take it as it is, and, like 
a funeral orator, employ ourselves rather in its 
eulogy, than its dissection. 

The child, before it comes to know the difference 
between right and wrong, is allowed, by the ortho- 
dox as well as by their opponents, to be, in one 
sense, innocent. It knows no wrong, it harbors no 
suspicion, it bears no malice, and it has no desires, 
unless under that name may be classed a longing for 
warm milk and water. In this happy state the phi- 
losophic mind iinds food for profound study ; and 
among other researches, I may be allowed to say it 
has discovered that Ugliness — mere physical Ugliness, 
I mean — has no natural and inherent repulsion. The 
tender babe will reach its tiny fingers to grasp the 
nose of deformity, or smooth the wrinkles of age, 
with the same tremor of delight as is witnessed in 
its toying with classic features, or a youthful skin. 
ITay, I have seen an infant turn from the works of 
our best masters, to fondle a bundle of rags, bearing 
but a distant and ugly similitude to itself. You may 
call this ignorance, I call it nature, and I see in it 
one of those beautiful lessons which we are ever apt 
to prate of, and too little inclined to approve. The 
babe and the suckling, a fresh type of som'ething 
higher than this earth can offer, a purity in the 



42 

midst of sin, puts its mark upon our heart, and 
reads us tins truth : " To the Beautiful and the 
joyous Soul, even Ugliness has a Beauty." [Ap- 
plause.] 

But further than this, and in another view, may 
Ugliness be said to have a hunuxnizing power. In 
the halls of Fashion as well as among the cottages 
of Rusticity, the freaks of nature are observable — 
sometimes exhibiting themselves in such (juiet and 
yet torturing malformations as the foot of a Byron, 
and at others awaking the continual sympathy of the 
good, as in the deformity of a Goldsmith. And 
wherever such vagaries, as we are accustomed to call 
them, exist, shall we, in our obtuseness, blame an 
all-wise Providence, and say they have no use? Let 
me inquire who exercised a more softening influence 
over that Imlk of knowledge, kindness and bearish- 
ness, known as Dr. Samuel Johnson, than Oliver 
Goldsmith himself:? and this too, not despite, but 
rather on account of those very oddities and awk- 
wardnesses that rendered the author of the Vicar of 
Wakefield — in few instances only, let us hope — the 
laughing stock of the envious. Who has not met an 
" ugly man " or an " ugly woman ? " — and here, of 
course,* I refer to features, not to temper — and who, 
having met such, has not felt the benevolent jDangs 



43 

of commiseration ? How often in the society of cul- 
tivated persons have we heard the kind and sympa- 
thizing remark, expressive of grief at the pain that 
must be endured by the countenance of the unfortu- 
nate ugly one ? Surely, misfortune that calls forth 
such sympathy, loses half its affliction in the con- 
sciousness of a power to wake to pity, if not to love. 

Rare, indeed, I hope, are the occasions in which 
deformity has provoked sarcasm, in Avhich ugliness of 
person has awakened ugliness of heart. I must con- 
fess — to the shame of human nature — that I have 
seen one or two such instances, and I have been re- 
minded, when watching the face of some strikingly 
unhandsome person smarting under a jest, of the sen- 
sitive plant in my friend the gardener's green-house, 
growing from common earth, and boasting but a 
rude pot of cla}^ as its hold upon existence ; and as 
I have seen the gentle soul shrink from the rude 
touch of malice, I have almost wished for a momen- 
tary omnipotence, to give vitality and strength to the 
tender spirit, that it might turn and crush the fin- 
gers by which it was tormented. [Sensation.] 

And where such malice, which is deformity, in 
one soul, has called forth such sympathy, which is 
beauty, in another, who shall say that, judged by 
the law of Compensation, and weighed in the eternal 



44 

balances of Good and Evil, Ugliness, essential and in- 
herent, has not betrayed a use, and put forth a 
power, which, though apparently as little as the force 
of a water-drop, shall yet, with a kindred energy to 
that of each hidden globule of the ocean, help to 
raise, support and carry forward whatever is beautiful 
and true, upon the mighty Sea of Time ! [Great 
applause.] 

Again, the salutary effect of Ugliness is to be ob- 
served, I think, not merely in the idle sympathetic,- 
but in the active charity it calls into existence. Re- 
mark, in those walks of benevolence where you so 
often tread, who excites your sincerest sorrow and 
feels your largest bounty. Is it not the beggar of 
the most patches and the fewest limbs? And is it 
not notorious that the most successful clerical asker 
of contributions among us, is the one the least re- 
markable for the graces of his person ? And thus it 
is, that while little crimes and little criminals re- 
ceive but a casual sympathy from our great philan- 
thropists, the murderer, — the ugliest of the ugly souls, 
— extorts tears from stoics, is defended by "bristling 
columns" in the newspapers, and makes the hearts 
of governors bleed. [Deep silence.] 

Let me now direct your attention to an equally 
serious and important use of Ugliness, and one in 



45 

which, perchance, you will feel a higher interest. 
Ugliness is a most capital f<nl. Day would become 
burdensome without tlic night. Joy would ache for 
some misery, as a set-oft', should sorrows cease ; and 
perpetual and omnipresent Beauty, of whicli the day- 
light and happiness are Init tyjjes and phases, 
would, while man's nature remains as it is, drive us 
all mad in the end. It is a common stage-trick, to 
render a giant more gigantic, and a dwarf more di- 
minutive, by the proximity of smaller or larger ob- 
jects ; and though 

Pigmies are pigmies still, tho' perch'd on Alps ; 
And pyramids are pyramids in vales, — 

yet there can be no doubt that both the pigmies and 
the pyramids would acquire an additional, though 
indeed it might be but a meretricious distinction, 
were they really placed in the supposititious locali- 
ties assigned them by the poet. Who questions that 
the beauty of Miranda is heightened by her associa- 
tion with Caliban ? Haidee, although the cunning- 
poet never intended this secret to be revealed, gains 
one charm the more when we remember the rough- 
ness of her father's manners and the barbarity of his 
trade ; and the Indian maiden Yarico seems the love- 
lier by reason of the heartlessness and villany of her 
lover, Incle. Contrast makes all beauty ; and, as a 



46 

sequitur, ugliness has a use. Were there no flat feet, 
of what use, let me ask, were a rounded instep ? 
Were all hands and ceintures fashioned after the 
same model, what would become of that ambition 
that tapers from a finger, or circles round a waist ? 
[Sensation.] And were there no villany, no vice, no 
ugliness of character or disposition, where would be 
the glory and the virtue of those persons whom, in 
the politest circles, we hear designated as the sweet 
— the charming — and the nice 't 

It is, I think, to be regretted, that, as a nation, 
we have not cultivated a better acquaintance . with 
the true use and power of Ugliness — that combina- 
tion, if I may so express it, of the Ugly essential 
with the Ugly apparent — which has been sought after 
with such decided success in other countries. It 
seems to be a destiny that we have not yet reached, 
if indeed we ever are to reach it, to exemplify, either 
in human or mechanical specimens, the practicability 
of such a combined organization. The Russians, the 
Turks, the French, and I may say the English, far 
transcend us in this respect, so far as concerns the 
animal J';A2/5^5"^*e / and in the late Exposition of all 
Nations, in the Crystal Palace at London, it was 
only too plain that our genius had not yet reached 
this triumph in the mechanical arts. Colt's Revolver 



47 

is the only exccptiun tu tliis remark, that I now re- 
member. In everytliing else, we were merely re})re- 
sented by the extremes; — essential Ugliness, on the 
one hand, being displayed in a bust in Soap, and 
apparent Ugliness in a large number of Daguerreo- 
types, on the other. [Some applause, and some lit- 
tle dissatisfaction expressed by one or two in tlie 
audience.] 

But furthermore and finally, Ugliness is promotive 
of good fellowship. It is notorious that those who 
are blessed with what the wt)rld calls a handsome 
person, are almost as certainly gifted with a complete 
appreciation of their own charms, so that the ahan- 
don and ease that are the axles on which social en- 
joyment turns, are to be sought elsewhere than 
amongst the line-featured and the pretty. 

There is a pleasant paper in the Spectator, illus- 
trative of the good temper and social)ility of the 
ugly men. A few of this species formed an associa- 
tion to which they honestly gave the name of the 
" Ugly Club," and amongst their rules we find that, 
" every fresh member, upon his first night is to en- 
tertain the company with a dish of codfish, and a 
speech in praise of ^sop, whose portraiture they 
have in fine proportion, or rather disproportion, on 
the chimney, and their design is, as soon as their 



48 

funds are sufficient, to purchase the heads of Ther- 
sites, Duns Scotus, Scarron, Hudibras, and the old 
gentleman in Oldham, with all the celebrated ill 
faces of Antiquity, as furniture for the club room." 
Jolly times, doubtless, they had, with their own ugly 
faces leering back at the ugly company on the walls 
— criticising their own charms without vanity — and 
comparing sprains and mutilations, arm-slings and 
crutches, in the most perfect good humor. Long may 
the ugly men live ! and when the time arrives, if ar- 
rive it must, which Heaven forbid ! when the glorious 
Union of these affiliated States shall be dissolved, — 
when the North and the South, so long friends and 
brothers, shall become aliens in each other's territory, 
and strangers at each other's hearths — when the 
beauty of Many in Unity becomes a wreck and a re- 
membrance — may there be a few ugly men left, to 
cheer the gloom that shall foreshadow the " Good 
Time Coming." 



MB - 9a 



'^^ik^ %.A^ :^A 



•^ 

^ 



t 



^/ ::^ 


















o V*' 








'^'o 



'bV" 



^0• 









%<>■ 



-m^-' .^ 



v^. 














^ '^^,^^^ 

""e"^ 












.^^r 



^<b^'^^ \.VJ.ti\^* A^ "^v. ^. 









V -^^--o^ :i 









l'^/' 1 -0.'' 






co^;- 






•^°o 



V-J^" c"" 



o V 



0^ 



<^^ 
"^^ 






•6- »• .^ 55 













V * 



-?>- 



V 



\^ 



■Cy' ">>■ '- %■' "> '>r -> 



o 



.<i-'^ 



0_ rf" >i.v 






0-^ 









o 

•^ a"* •• 






.<J^^ . '^^' « 



^'<I;J 



"^oV^ 















&.^ ^ 









.'=>^r 






o 



\ 






OOBBS BROS. 

LIBRARY BINOINQ 

t ST. AUGUSTINE ^ 






0^ .i 






0.r C 



^, 



,0- 












n% FLA. 
32084 



